


Prayers for the Wicked

by CelticKnot



Series: The Paths We Are Given [2]
Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Drama, Flashbacks, Gen, Spoken Aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: Thane Krios was given over to the hanar Illuminated Primacy at the age of six to serve the Compact as an assassin. By the time he was sixteen, he had the potential to be one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. But his arrogance may be his downfall when a joint assignment with Cerberus goes sideways, earning him the enmity of a man who will wait a decade for revenge. As narrated by Thane to Kasumi Goto.





	1. Prologue: The People Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a spin-off from “Compromised,” detailing the events Thane flashes back to in Chapter 14. It’s not necessary to have read that first, but I’m doing this one in a very similar style.

“Thane? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Thane set down the datapad he’d been reading—a translation of _The Divine Comedy,_ an epic poem from ancient Earth—and turned at the sound of Kasumi’s voice. She sounded hesitant, almost nervous, a far cry from her usual confidence and bravado. Even her body language suggested uncertainty. “Of course,” he said warmly, and gestured to the chair across the table from where he sat. As she gratefully took a seat, he asked, “What can I do for you, Kasumi?”

“Well, I was hoping I could ask you a kind of… personal question,” she said slowly. “About memories.”

Curious, Thane folded his hands under his chin, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “What is it you wish to know?”

Kasumi fidgeted, and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You told me about what happened to your wife. I… wanted to talk about your memories of her. If that’s okay.”

“Ah. A personal question, indeed.” He studied her thoughtfully: normally bright eyes downcast, head bowed, shoulders slumped. She looked… tired, in more ways than one. _Of course._ “This is regarding Keiji’s graybox, isn’t it?” he asked gently.

If that was the case, as he strongly suspected it was, it made sense that she would come to him. Her lover’s fate had been distressingly similar to Irikah’s, and she had sought revenge on his murderer in much the same way Thane had. And now, much as Thane’s perfect memory would forever preserve in perfect clarity every moment he had spent with his wife, Kasumi was in possession of the neural implant that had recorded all of Keiji’s experiences of her, and could play them back at will.

Miserably, Kasumi nodded. “Shepard thinks I should destroy it. Keiji wanted me to destroy it. But I can’t let him go.” Now she did look at him, something in her face pleading for understanding. “It… it hurts, replaying his memories. It hurts so much. But I can’t stop.” Her voice cracked as a tear slid down her cheek. “If you could… forget Irikah—no, not altogether, I mean… just… let the details fade. Would you?”

Thane sat back, momentarily stunned by the question. “I had… never considered the possibility,” he murmured. But the possibility did not bear much consideration, and he shook his head. “No. Painful though they may at times be, the memories are all I have left of her. I would not give them up.”

“Are they still?” Kasumi asked plaintively. “Painful, I mean? After all this time?”

Thane recognized what he saw in her: the desolation of love torn apart, the cold ashes of revenge taken, the need to escape the emptiness left behind. It brought back uncomfortable memories of his own.

_(just give me one reason)_

But where Thane had briefly thought to drown his suffering in the ocean, Kasumi had Keiji’s memories in which to lose herself. And unlike the waters of the Encompassing, those memories could one day be a source of comfort. “They can be,” he admitted. “To lose someone you love… is to lose a part of your own soul. It is a wound that never truly heals. But in time, the memories can become a place of solace, if you allow them. And the pain itself becomes a memory of the love that was.”

Kasumi smiled despite herself. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Thanks, Thane. That… actually helps.” She drew a shaky breath, letting it out slowly as she bowed her head to wipe the tears from her face. When she looked up again, some of her old irrepressible spark was beginning to return. “I’ve been going through some of the heists I ran with Keiji. We made a great team, he and I. We had fun together.” She tilted her head to one side and regarded Thane curiously. “What about you? Did you ever work with a partner?”

Thane blinked in mild surprise at the question—it wasn’t something anyone else on the crew, not even Shepard, had ever thought to ask him—then nodded. “I did. In the early years of my service to the Compact, I was eager to work alongside another, and often took partnered assignments.” He hesitated, then added softly, “That… changed.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“Indeed,” he reluctantly acknowledged, “though it’s a long and… perhaps a somewhat embarrassing one.”

Kasumi smiled brightly. “Even better. Come on, Thane, dish!” she wheedled. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. And I could use a little cheering up.”

Thane raised his eyebrow ridge skeptically. “You intend to laugh at my expense?”

“Maybe,” Kasumi teased, eyes twinkling. “What else are embarrassing stories for?”

“Hmm.” Thane pressed steepled fingers to his lips as he allowed the memories to surface. “We shall see.”


	2. The Deep and Savage Way

“I’m not sure where precisely to begin… I suppose some background would be helpful. I began my training under the Compact at the age of six; this was just before my Awakening, of course, so I knew little else.

“Ah, yes, my apologies. Drell memories don’t fully develop until the age of six or seven. We retain few details of the first years of our lives until that occurs, a process we refer to as the Awakening. A somewhat poetic term for a mundane developmental milestone.

“My point, however, is that I excelled in my training, and knew little but the praise of my teachers, and later, my handlers. As you might imagine, this engendered a certain… overconfidence. I’m afraid I grew to be quite an arrogant teenager.

“Of course, I wasn’t perfect—no student is. My first kill, for example, was… clumsy, as one might expect.

“After I’d been training for six years, when I’d spent as much of my life in the Compact as I had with my family, Arren—my mentor and trainer—gave me my first assignment. Arren was a rare creature: an old assassin. Hmm, well, that’s how I remember him; I suppose a twelve-year-old can be forgiven for counting one who’s passed fifty among the elderly. He was something of a legend among the assassins of the Compact, with hundreds of confirmed kills over three decades of service, until his advancing Kepral’s Syndrome forced him into semi-retirement.

“But regardless of his failing health, Arren commanded the respect—indeed, the awe—of those he trained. Though I refer to him by his given name now, at the time I knew him only as Sere Xiphas. He was an easy man to learn from, but a difficult one to please. Rarely did he deliver praise directly—far more often, I would hear from one of the hanar, ‘Sere Xiphas was impressed by your performance in today’s marksmanship training,’ or, ‘Sere Xiphas tells this one you handled yourself remarkably well in your sparring match yesterday.’ But he would never tell me so himself.

“Naturally, I took that as a personal challenge. I became determined to impress him so much he would be forced to admit it personally. It wasn’t the noblest of motivations, perhaps, but it kept me striving for perfection. So when he offered me the contract—a full year earlier than most trainees—I jumped at the chance to prove myself.

“The target was the commander of a small band of human mercenaries who had set up a base on Intai’sei, a man named Chester Palhed. This particular group was one cell of a crime syndicate whose operations were growing uncomfortably bold, and the Illuminated Primacy wanted to send them a message. It was a simple, low-risk, low-priority assignment: a perfect opportunity to test my skills. I was to infiltrate the base, eliminate the target, and escape without being seen. The point wasn’t to destroy the cell entirely, just to let them know they’d been noticed.

“And I wasn’t going in alone. Arren would accompany me to evaluate my performance. He would keep to the shadows and not interfere unless I slipped up so badly as to find my life in immediate danger.

“I swore to myself not to let that happen, of course. Just the thought of having to be rescued like that was… humiliating.

“But I committed my first error before we even left Kahje.

“Intelligence operatives had secured the plans for the building, and in studying them, I had found an excellent sniper’s nest in the maintenance catwalks above the loading bay. I would hide there, wait for Palhed to come inspect an incoming shipment, and take him out with a single shot. It was the kind of scenario I had trained for extensively. So confident was I in my plan and my abilities, I declined to bring spare ammunition, opting instead to load my sniper rifle with only a single thermal clip. I would have one shot and one shot only—and I was certain that was all I needed. My only secondary weapon was a small dagger, equipped merely as a nod to standard procedure.

“The look Arren gave me probably should have given me pause, but in my hubris, I ignored him.

“No, he didn’t say anything. Arren always let me make my own mistakes, so I’d learn from them. Some might call it a harsh way to teach, but it was… effective. And I would certainly learn a lot on this mission—though perhaps not enough.

“We spent most of the journey to Intai’sei reviewing my plan. As was his way, Arren offered little input and no indication of whether or not he approved. This was a test, and I would pass or fail entirely on my own.

“Intai’sei is a hot and arid world, uncomfortable for humans, though less so for drell. The base was lightly guarded, and the watch outside was changed often. I timed my incursion carefully to take advantage of a gap in the patrols, and slipped unseen into the compound’s wide ventilation shafts, Arren following immediately behind. The air inside was bitterly cold in comparison to the heat outdoors, and I stopped short for a moment in shock. I even heard Arren suppress a cough. But there was no turning back.

“I had of course memorized the route to the loading bay, and located my sniper’s nest with little difficulty. Silently, I climbed out of the duct and set up my rifle. It was only slightly warmer out here, and my fingers were numb from the cold, so I had to move slowly. In my mind, I cursed every extra second, certain that Arren was counting them, too.

“In reality, it probably wasn’t much cooler there than it is here on the _Normandy._ I simply wasn’t accustomed to it yet. Kahje is nearly as warm as Intai’sei, and this was the first time I’d been off-world.

“Finally, I was ready, and all that remained to do was wait. The next shipment wasn’t due for another hour. But now that I wasn’t moving, the cold seemed to seep into my very bones. The vent we’d come through was blowing chilled air directly on my back, and the metal of the catwalk floor and railing was like ice. It took all the discipline I could muster to remain still.

“After what seemed like an eternity, the shipment arrived, and Palhed came to the loading bay to inspect it, as his dossier indicated he would. Only he and a few dockworkers occupied the room. It was time for me to make my move.

_“I scope in on him. The back of his head centered in my crosshairs. Red laser dot dances on his skull. My hands tremble, from nerves or cold, I cannot say. I pause, willing them still, to no avail. Sere Xiphas silently judging every second of delay. Frustrated and anxious, I pull the trigger._

“And in my haste… I missed.

“You can imagine my surprise—and embarrassment. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that I might miss such an easy target. For a moment I simply stared, frozen in disbelief, with barely enough presence of mind to switch off my targeting laser before someone used it to track me. Time seemed to slow.

“In shame and a little bit of panic, I glanced back at Arren. I expected him to be angry. But instead, he simply gestured to the frightened men below as if to say, _Complete your contract._

“My sniper rifle was useless now, of course. If I’d brought any spare thermal clips, I could have easily reloaded and taken another shot. I certainly wouldn’t have missed a second time! But I had none, of course, and I knew better than to ask Arren for one. So it would have to be hand-to-hand.

“I laid my rifle aside and climbed over the railing, moving slowly and silently so as not to attract attention. Palhed hadn’t yet thought to look up. As for the dockworkers, they had retreated to the cargo ship and barricaded themselves inside, terrified. The knowledge that it was me they feared so was… a little bit thrilling. And that gave me the confidence I needed, if not the forethought.

“As you well know, it’s important to know someone’s physical capabilities if you’re going to attack them, especially if they’re of another species. And there are a few relevant differences between human and drell physiology that can have a profound effect on hand-to-hand combat. Most notably, our muscle tissue is denser than yours, so a typical drell is about eight to ten percent stronger than the average human. I’d planned for that disparity. But in my haste to impress my mentor, I failed to account for the fact that I was still but a boy, whereas my target was a grown man. Therefore, I would find myself suddenly and unexpectedly outmatched.

“Despite that perhaps unforgivable oversight, however, I was still well-trained and knew how to handle larger and stronger opponents. But it was loud and messy, and perhaps a miracle that I was the one left standing when it was over. It was—

_“He stares around the room wildly, trying to track my stray shot. Another step, and he’s directly underneath me. I hesitate, a fraction of a second, then drop from the catwalk to land on his shoulders. He falls. I manage to get a grip on his jaw with one hand and prepare to snap his neck. But I’ve underestimated his strength, and he throws me off, my fingernails leaving bloody scratches across his face. I roll to a crouch, slightly stunned, catching my breath. Reevaluating._

_“His fear and anger turn to shock when he sees me. He laughs in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding me. A goddamn child?’_

_“I snarl at that and lunge at him. He sidesteps me easily and tries to grab me, but I elude him, barely. I draw my knife. His eyes widen when he sees the blade. Not fear. Relief. He draws a pistol from the holster at his hip._

_“A laser dot appears on his forehead as Sere Xiphas prepares his shot. Deliberately, I signal to him: no. Palhed follows my gaze, and as soon as he’s distracted, I strike._

_“I’m fast, but not fast enough. And he’s stronger than me. He catches my wrist just before I can plunge my knife into his heart. He twists my arm roughly, and the knife clatters to the ground. I aim a kick at his other hand that sends his pistol flying. But I can’t free myself from his grip, so I go in close. A knee to his stomach doubles him over. Elbow strike to the temple stuns him, and he finally lets go of my arm and stumbles back. He shakes his head and charges at me, aiming a punch at my face. I charge my biotics and Throw him, and he falls._

_“I’m on him in an instant, my knee on his chest, his head in my hands. His neck snaps. The laser dot disappears._

“I grinned up into my mentor’s scope as I caught my breath, eminently pleased with myself for having completed my first real assignment. But of course, it wasn’t really completed yet. In moments, footsteps sounded outside the door, and I barely had time to escape back into the ventilation shaft before Palhed’s security forces entered the room.

“Naturally, on the way back to Kahje, Arren scolded me quite soundly for the errors I’d made in my eagerness to show off. But he also congratulated me on my quick recovery and recalculation. It was the first time I’d ever heard words of praise directly from his lips, and that, unfortunately, was the part of the lesson that stayed with me. I credited myself and my own skills for my survival that day. Looking back, though, I see that it was only the grace of Arashu that spared me.”


	3. Stained Incarnadine

Kasumi tilted her head to one side, regarding Thane thoughtfully. When he’d tried to dismiss this story as “embarrassing,” she had honestly expected an anecdote about a time he’d gotten his ass kicked or something. He was such a private person; it was uncommon for anyone but Commander Shepard to hear him utter more than two sentences together. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t ever speak unless he had something truly meaningful to say. Thane wasn’t much for small talk. At the same time, though, he rarely shared anything deeply personal, either.

But when he’d returned from the Citadel after reuniting with his son, he’d looked so… tired. His usual aura of… of cold confidence, to use Kelly’s apt words, had faltered, allowing Kasumi—ever the observant people-watcher—a unique glimpse of the man behind the mask. Most likely, few others in the crew had even noticed; or else anyone who did had, perhaps wisely, decided against saying anything. Boatload of introverts, the _Normandy._ Kasumi had never imagined shipboard life could be lonely, but she’d been slowly going stir-crazy. So when she’d run into Thane in the mess hall—itself an unusual occurrence—she had taken it upon herself to break his self-imposed isolation.

Previously, he had always taken his meals back to his makeshift quarters in the Life Support bay. And even that day, though he’d changed up his routine, he had still sat apart from the rest of the crew, absorbed in whatever he was reading. Or trying to be—she had seen his eyes glaze over more than once as he’d struggled to keep whatever memories threatened to overwhelm him at bay. Figuring he might even welcome the distraction, she’d joined him at the table.

He’d been surprised, to say the least, but was far too polite to turn her away. Eventually he’d warmed up to her, and the conversation they’d shared that day had become the first of many. Despite her markedly more gregarious nature, Kasumi had been amazed at just how much she had in common with the monkish assassin, and had soon come to consider him a friend. And when she’d finally confided in him the sordid tale of Keiji’s murder in an outpouring of detail and emotion she’d held back even from Shepard, Thane had reciprocated with a brief account of the death of his wife, not in any cruel game of masochistic one-upmanship, but in genuine commiseration and empathy. And trust.

Even then, however, he had remained a man of few words, relating a timeline of events with little insight into his own mind. But Kasumi hadn’t pried, simply grateful that he’d trusted her with that much. That he was sharing _this_ story with her in such intimate detail had her frankly astonished.

She almost said as much, but caught herself at the last minute. She didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, she listened in rapt silence as he continued.

* * *

“Arren did attempt to teach me some humility. When we returned to Kahje, before we made our report to the hanar, he took me first to the temple of the Old Gods. ‘Go inside,’ he instructed me, ‘and beg the Gods for forgiveness.’

“I stared up at him in confusion. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘When we complete these contracts, are we not merely instruments of the hanar? I thought I was not to blame for Palhed’s death.’

“Hmm, it seems I’ve given you the wrong impression. No, that was what made Arren a great teacher—rather than expecting his orders to be followed without question, he always encouraged me to ask when I truly didn’t understand. ‘That is true,’ he said, ‘but it was still your hands that destroyed a part of Their creation, and that is a sin. You are by necessity Disconnected, and must seek forgiveness to be made Whole once more.’ Arren sighed and laid a hand on my shoulder. It was a remarkable thing, for him to touch me in such a… fatherly manner. That, and the sadness in his voice, gave weight to what he would say next. ‘What we do is necessary,’ he explained, ‘but a necessary evil is still evil. We are wicked men, Thane. And prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken.’

“It was the first time, but not the last, that I would hear Arren say that, though I didn’t understand the significance of it. Not yet.

“My parents had begun to raise me in the Old Faith of our people, and Arren had encouraged this. But I was still a child, with a child’s superficial understanding of religion. I’d always found the temple to be a comforting and peaceful place, and little more. The air was always hazy with incense, and shot through with color from the sunlight coming through the stained-glass windows. It was quiet, as well—few follow the Old Faith anymore, so even services for the highest holidays were sparsely attended and subdued. But that made them intimate, and I liked that. It was a place of refuge, where I could go any time I felt unsettled.

“That day, though… that day was different.

“There were three stone statues in the temple, one for each of the Gods, depicted with the symbols of Their domains and Their legends. Arashu, the Goddess of motherhood and protection, was carved of red granite and shown holding an elaborate shield and cradling Her unborn child. Amonkira, Lord of Hunters, held a drawn bow and was cast in white marble. And the Goddess of oceans and afterlife, Kalahira, stood with Her arms spread wide as if to embrace those who came before Her, hooded and robed, a cauldron at Her feet, and was carved from obsidian so black it was difficult to make out Her features. I had always loved these images; I’d found them mysterious and inspiring all at once. But that day, they seemed to stare at me in judgement, and it was difficult to look upon them.

“I sat there for a while, staring down at the floor, unsure of where to begin or what to say. Before long, I became aware of someone approaching, and looked up just as one of the priests sat beside me. ‘You seem troubled, son,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to talk about it?’

“I hesitated, glancing around at the handful of other worshippers in the temple. The questions that plagued me were inextricably tied to my profession, which of course I was forbidden to reveal to anyone. However, much as your doctors are bound by law to confidentiality, so our priests are bound as well, though by religious custom rather than secular law. ‘May I—may we speak in private?’ I asked hesitantly.

“‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Come.’

“He led me to a small chamber near the shrine of Kalahira. It was sparsely appointed, intended for solitary meditation or just this sort of personal confession. As the door slid shut behind us, he sat in one of the room’s two chairs and gestured for me to do the same. ‘What’s bothering you, my boy?’ he asked.

“Even knowing that our words would not leave this chamber, I still spoke carefully. ‘For longer than my memory,’ I began slowly, ‘I have trained to serve the Compact.’

“The old priest smiled gently. ‘I thought as much. You speak as one educated by the hanar.’

“I nodded. ‘But the terms of my service… the things they require of me…’ Struggling for words, I tried again. ‘Is it not true,’ I asked, ‘that when I fulfill a contract, I am not morally responsible for the actions I take in doing so? That my body is only the tool wielded by those whose orders I carry out?’

“‘That is perhaps a simplified explanation,’ the priest answered thoughtfully, ‘but essentially correct, yes.’

“‘And yet my mentor would have me ask the Gods for forgiveness.’

“He regarded me thoughtfully for a long, silent moment, and I had to force myself to hold his gaze. Finally, he asked, ‘What is it you’re required to do?’

“Now I did look down at the floor. ‘I… I took a life,’ I admitted. ‘But not one of our people, though. A human,’ I added, perhaps defensively.

“‘I see. And do you think the species of your victim—’ the word made me cringe— ‘makes a difference to the Gods?’

“Despite his uncompromising turn of phrase, the question, put to me so quietly and utterly without accusation, took me by surprise, and I stared at him, uncomprehending.

“‘Did They not create the Universe? The entire Universe?’ he continued by way of explanation. ‘All people are Their children, and all races know Them. Who we call Arashu, the asari may call Athame. Amonkira to us may be Yahweh to the humans. Others may call Them by alien names and paint Them with alien faces, but They remain the same Gods over all the worlds.’

“‘I took a moment to digest this in silence. It was difficult for me to grasp, as I had until then maintained a child’s rather literal interpretation of the Old Faith. The concept of the Gods as metaphors seemed almost blasphemous. I felt dizzy, unsettled.

“The old priest gave me a patient smile. ‘You will understand in time. You’re not the first young assassin to come here with such questions, Thane Krios.’

“This shocked me, of course. He knew both my name and my profession, information which, if leaked, could put me and anyone associated with me in great danger. Assassins in the Compact are trained very carefully to conceal our identities, and take great pains to do so. How this priest had acquired mine was a mystery to me, and an urgent one.

“My alarm must have shown on my face, though, because he held up a hand and continued, ‘Fear not; the secret of your profession is safe here. But you spoke of your mentor—that would be Arren Xiphas, if I’m not mistaken.’

“‘You know Sere Xiphas?’ I blurted out in surprise.

“He chuckled softly. ‘As I said, you are not the first. I had precisely this conversation with him many years ago. He told me to expect you.’

“That, more than any of his other reassurances, began to allay my fears. If Arren trusted this man so completely, then I could, too.

“It was also strange to think of Arren as a trainee, as the boy he had once been. I suppose it would be much like imagining your parents as children—he was, after all, the nearest thing to a father I could remember. But his presence was almost monolithic, grave and stern, the tales of his accomplishments close to legendary, and it was easy to forget that he, too, had once been young. It was a sobering reminder that the legend was, in reality, mortal. The thought was uncomfortable, and I tried to push it away, but I never did look at Arren in quite the same way after that.

“I still wonder sometimes if that was his intent.

“But before the priest and I could talk for very much longer, my omni-tool pinged—a message from Arren. Orander, the hanar official to whom we must report, was waiting. I stood to leave. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I have to go, but I shall consider what we have discussed. It has been… enlightening.’

“The priest pronounced a formal blessing, and I left, perhaps more confused than when I’d entered.”


	4. Peccatum Superbiae

“Orander was pleased with the outcome of my mission. ‘You have done well, young Sere Krios,’ it said. ‘There were those in the Illuminated Primacy who questioned the wisdom of sending one so young on this assignment. This one is glad to say you have proved them wrong.’

“I couldn’t suppress a not-entirely-professional smile. ‘My thanks,’ I replied proudly.

“‘He still has much to learn,’ Arren hedged, frowning at me. But I could see the pride in his eyes, too. Or at least, so I told myself.

“‘Indeed,’ Orander agreed. ‘You will therefore continue to supervise his training, Sere Xiphas. Give him contracts as you see fit, and report to this one on his progress.’ 

“Arren bowed. ‘Yes, _senyim_.’”

* * *

Kasumi blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry, that didn’t translate,” she said, frowning.

“It’s a term of respect,” Thane explained. “Much like the asari, the hanar don’t have distinct genders. But where the asari generally resemble the females of many species and usually choose to be addressed as such, the hanar prefer a gender-neutral form of address. One would use _‘senyim’_ with a hanar where ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ would be appropriate for a human.”

“Oh. I don’t think there’s a word for that in English. It’s pretty.” Kasumi studied Thane thoughtfully, then grinned. “We should turn our translators off for bit sometime. I’d love to hear what your language actually sounds like.”

Thane, for his part, looked skeptical at that idea—or perhaps at the mischief in her smile. “It would be difficult to converse,” he commented, “having no idea what one another is saying.” He took a sip of his tea, eyeing Kasumi over the rim of the mug as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, she didn’t want to disappoint him, now, did she? “Uh-huh. I get it,” she teased. “You only whisper your sweet nothings in Shepard’s ear these days.”

Bingo. Thane nearly choked on his tea, his normally unflappable composure cracking for just an instant before he collected himself again. Both sets of eyelids blinked rapidly, and Kasumi could swear the red skin of his throat flushed a little darker. “Excuse me?”

Kasumi couldn’t help but giggle. “Sweet nothings. It means—”

“I am familiar with the idiom.” He set the mug down, perhaps a little more slowly than was strictly necessary, and regarded her with a raised brow ridge. “However, I was not aware that the nature of my… relationship with Commander Shepard, such as it is, was the subject of speculation among the crew.”

Kasumi scoffed playfully. “There’s no _speculation_ about it, Thane. Everyone’s seen the way she looks at you. Except you, apparently, which is surprising. And kind of cute.” Inwardly, she cringed, wishing she could take the words back as a blush of her own warmed her cheeks. _Yep, you just called the badass assassin “cute.” ‘Cause_ that’s _sure to go over well._ She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject. “Uh, so anyway, go on. You were saying?”

Chuckling quietly at her sudden discomfiture, Thane took another sip of his tea before continuing.

* * *

“Over the next two years, I was sent on many more assignments under Arren’s watchful scope. I learned from my mistakes on Intai’sei. I made new ones—though never quite as grievous—and learned from those as well. Never once did I fail to complete a contract, and never again did Arren’s laser touch my mark. And each time, as my target fell, I would glance back to Arren’s hiding place to see his nod of approval.

“During that time, I was given missions that tested my sniper marksmanship and hand-to-hand skills to their limits, and I learned something interesting. While there was a certain satisfaction to watching through my scope as a man fell dead half a kilometer from my position, it was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush of feeling his neck snap under my own hands. You might say I became addicted to the feeling, and I sought it out wherever I could. It became almost a game to me, to see how close I could get to my target undetected.

“As a result, at a young age I became a master at infiltration, penetrating security measures, and taking out members of any species with a minimum of collateral damage. Arren afforded me great latitude in choosing my methods, so I went in close and personal whenever I could. And as my skill improved, word of my accomplishments began to spread, and I began to gain some measure of my own celebrity among the other trainees.

“It shames me somewhat to confess that this went straight to my head, and I quickly became insufferable. By the time I was fourteen, I had many professional admirers, but few friends.

“Finally, the time came for me to take on unsupervised missions—once again, earlier than most. And it was on my first such assignment that something curious happened. Something that, with the benefit of hindsight, I now recognize as perhaps indicative of the kind of young man I was becoming.

“It was a straightforward, routine assignment. My target was a turian, a high-ranking member of a Cabal unit whose espionage initiatives in hanar space had drawn the ire of the Illuminated Primacy. A trap had been laid on one of Kahje’s orbital defense stations: word had been ‘leaked’ of an experimental weapon being designed there, exactly the kind of intel this operative was known to seek out. I was to pose as a trainee security guard, wait for him to take the bait, and eliminate him.

“Yes, wars have started for far less. But rather than instigate an armed conflict with the Turian Hierarchy—a conflict which would undoubtedly end poorly for the Primacy—the hanar chose to express their… displeasure… more quietly. That was all I ever knew about the situation; the deeper intricacies of the political machinations involved were, as our Mr. Taylor has aptly put it, above my pay grade.

“I was given two dossiers: one for the saboteur, and one for my cover. Mine was quite brief—little more than a name and some training records—but the turian’s was far more detailed. His name was Tacitus Caelian, and despite the mistrust with which the regular turian military views the Cabals, he was highly decorated and well respected. His biotic abilities had manifested at an early age, so when he’d entered basic training as all turians do at the age of fifteen, he had received specialized instruction from the very beginning before being placed with a Cabal unit. He was known to use Lash with particular effectiveness against shielded opponents, in addition to the turians’ unique ability to biotically enhance movement and melee skills. Combined with standard Cabal Vanguard armament of Nightshade Blades and venom-infused gauntlets, it was clear that the easiest and wisest course of action would be to take him out from a distance. Engaging him hand-to-hand would be foolishly dangerous, if not downright suicidal.

“I had in my possession the perfect weapon for the job. Through his extensive network of contacts, Arren had recently acquired a prototype Incisor sniper rifle, and had presented it to me as a gift upon the completion of my training. It is unique among sniper weapons in that it fires in three-round bursts, making it ideal for punching through shields. Modified with an extended barrel and Warp rounds, it could take down biotic barriers just as effectively, and still kill an unsuspecting target with a single pull of the trigger.

“Nevertheless, I brought a few spare thermal clips, and a Predator pistol as a backup weapon.

“I patrolled the defense station with the guard force for several days before Caelian finally arrived to spring the trap, having stowed away on one of the shuttles delivering supplies to the station’s crew. Rather than follow him, I stationed myself on the maintenance catwalks above and some distance away from a computer terminal deliberately left vulnerable to him, and waited for him to come to me.

“And come he did. In the semi-darkness of the night cycle, I could just see the shimmer of his biotic barrier as he approached. I watched him down my scope, waiting for him to access the terminal and begin downloading the false data.

“Caelian looked around warily, as if he could feel my gaze, but his eyes slid over my hiding place without a flicker of awareness. Finally, he turned his back to me and bent over the terminal, providing me with a clear shot at the back of his head. I centered the crosshairs just under his crest and prepared to pull the trigger.

“But I didn’t take the shot, not yet. It was… it was too easy. I’m afraid my pride got the better of me.

“I crept closer, testing each step lest the metal floor creak under my weight. Keeping my rifle trained on him. He remained unaware of my presence. Emboldened by this, I continued to approach. I was now only ten meters away from him. At the first sign of suspicion, I would fire. Eight meters out, still undetected. Five meters. Two.

“I stopped directly above his head. There, I became possessed of an idea that would have stricken a wiser man with horror.

“Slowly, silently, I laid my sniper rifle aside, and then—

_“I drop from the catwalk, landing almost silently behind him. Heavy Warp on his barrier as he turns: it flickers out, he’s vulnerable. He swings at me with his poisoned blade. I dodge, the breeze of its passing brushing my face. He charges his biotics, preparing a Lash, and I grab his wrist, force him into an arm-control lock. His powers crackle and die in his hand. Pressing my pistol to his skull, I fire. He goes limp in my arms, his sudden weight staggering me. I let him fall as I turn back to where I’d hidden, smiling into the darkness at a mentor who isn’t there._

“I’d gotten so used to Arren being there to watch that the fact that I was alone this time had momentarily slipped from conscious memory. It had become habit to look back at him each time I completed my mission, and I hadn’t realized until just then how much pleasure I’d taken in having an audience. To suddenly realize that no one had seen me take down a Cabal operative, hand-to-hand, with such ease was… disappointing.

“It still surprises me how dismayed I felt that no one had witnessed this feat, near-miraculous though it was. It goes without saying that stealth and secrecy are critical parts of an assassin’s training, and that necessarily compels one to relinquish a certain amount of ego. Or it should. But though I had learned to wear shadows and silence like armor, I still found I craved the approval, even the adulation, of others. This of course was practically anathema to everything I’d been taught, but nevertheless, there it was. And it was strong enough to almost entirely overshadow what had moments before been an intense feeling of accomplishment and adrenaline-induced elation.

“Upon returning to the planet’s surface, I went first to the temple, as had become habit by now. But my heart and mind were elsewhere, and my prayers that day were little more than lip service, distracted and devoid of sincerity. All I could think about was making my report to Orander, and then finding Arren to tell him the tale.”


	5. What's Whispered Here

“Orander congratulated me on a job well done, and dismissed me back to the assassins’ barracks to await my next assignment. There, I found rumors of what I’d done had already begun to circulate, earning me appreciative nods from some of my older colleagues, and awed stares from the younger trainees. As you might imagine, all that attention was… well, I’m afraid I strutted and preened like a _nya-_ bird for a while.

“Of course, not everyone was so impressed. Not that they didn’t believe me—I never exaggerated my accomplishments, though it seemed that somehow made my boasting even worse—but there were some who recognized just how reckless I’d been. One in particular, a girl named Nemia Spathi, was particularly affronted.

“Nemia was more than a year my senior and an exceedingly gifted marksman. Her scores in our sniper exercises had broken records set by Arren himself—and then I had broken hers, mere days later. We had rarely spoken, but were viciously competitive with one another, each trying to outdo the other’s latest feat. I think we were about equally matched in skill, but where she always got the job done by the book, so to speak, my… boldness… generally attracted much more attention from our fellow assassins. And I didn’t yet have the maturity to realize that this wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“No, she wasn’t jealous. As I said, I think she was offended. ‘You’ve lost your mind, Krios,’ she spat. ‘You went hand-to-hand with a _Cabalist?_ On _purpose?_ You could have been killed! Goddess of oceans, you probably _should_ have been killed.’

“I bristled at that. ‘And yet he is dead, and I live,’ I bit out sharply.

“‘You were _lucky,’_ she snapped. ‘What were you even thinking? A single slip, and that turian would have run you through.’

“‘But I didn’t slip,’ I insisted. ‘I know what I’m doing, Spathi.’

“She only stared at me incredulously. ‘You know what you’re… Have you learned nothing Sere Xiphas taught us?’

“‘Sere Xiphas would be proud of me!’ I shot back. ‘Where is he? I’ll prove it to you!’

“In response, Nemia just blinked at me, her whole demeanor suddenly softening. ‘You haven’t heard?’ she asked. ‘A donor lung was found while you were gone. He’s had his transplant. He is recovering, but the surgery was… not uncomplicated. He will see no one.’”

* * *

“Hold on a minute!” Kasumi interrupted. “A transplant? That’s an option? You’re on the list, too, right?”

Thane looked surprised. “No, I…” He shuddered slightly. “No.”

Kasumi’s jaw dropped. “What? Why not?”

For a long, silent, and slightly uncomfortable moment, Thane considered his answer. When he finally spoke, it was slowly and carefully. “Even before I saw what happened to Arren, I found the thought of such extremely invasive surgery to be… disquieting,” he confessed. “And then to be followed by a lifelong regimen of labs, testing, and immunosuppressive drugs—and to what purpose? The five-year survival rate is less than fifty percent.” He shook his head. “No. If my body is going to fail me, it will do so, regardless of how drastic the measures I may take. I see little point in… prolonging the inevitable.”

A dozen different responses, equal parts incredulous and sarcastic, flashed through Kasumi’s mind, only to die on her lips. “You… you’re awfully sanguine about that,” she finally managed.

Thane gave her a small smile in return. “Kasumi, I have known that I will die for many years,” he said gently. “I have had ample time to come to terms with my mortality.”

Kasumi could only stare in shock as the truth hit her. Side effect of being a professional liar—she always knew when she was being lied to. But what really took her by surprise was the realization that he _didn’t know he was doing it._ For all he insisted that he had accepted his fate, he was actually so deep in denial he only _thought_ he was telling the truth. _That_ was his coping mechanism.

And that was why she didn’t say anything, and instead only nodded and let him continue.

* * *

“Nemia spoke the truth: Arren took no visitors while he recovered. We would soon learn that the hanar had released him _mae aíste_ from his service to the Compact—the nearest translation, I think, would be ‘with honors,’ but the phrase specifically implies an obligation more than fulfilled, and a discharge given as the ultimate reward. It is a badge of distinction a drell may carry for the rest of his life. As a point of comparison, I had to argue for my own release, which is considered… quite ungrateful, and carries a certain social stigma.

“But my point is that we saw very little of Arren after that, though he did keep in touch via the extranet with those of us who had been his students. And so for the next several years, I would write to him after every assignment I took, describing in detail the targets I was after, the methods I used, what it felt like to make the kill—each unique and yet the same. Occasionally he would respond with either critique or congratulations, just often enough that I knew my messages were being received, but most went unanswered. I gave this little thought; it was quite enough for me to know he was reading them.

“During that time, I was given more and more complex and dangerous assignments, until finally a contract came up that the Primacy deemed too critical and sensitive for any one assassin to handle alone—even me. A hanar had been caught selling state secrets to an agent of the Shadow Broker, secrets that could compromise the security of the Primacy as a whole, for its own personal profit. While this would normally merit a prison sentence, the traitor had a close family member who was a high-ranking government official—and totally innocent. It was determined, then, that two assassins would be sent: one to take out the Shadow Broker’s agent, and the other to kill the traitor and make it look like collateral damage. The idea was to make the agent appear to have been the primary target, a not uncommon fate for such operatives, in order to protect the family member’s reputation. Quite the delicate political balancing act.

“And so when I was summoned by Orander for the briefing, I was not alone. My partner for the mission turned out to be Nemia, my unofficial rival. I was thrilled to be working with her, if only so I could show off—to finally ‘defeat’ her in person, as I was so arrogantly certain I would. For her part, Nemia was… mmm, less than pleased. Though she said nothing at first, as I entered the room I could see her expression change from one of proud determination at having been tapped for an important mission, to one of frustration and dismay at having to work with me.

“It annoyed me at the time, but in hindsight, it was more than understandable.

“Orander briefed us on the situation and gave us the dossiers on our targets. ‘It is of utmost importance that this leak of information be stopped,’ it said, ‘and equally so that it be done quietly. The Shadow Broker would be a dangerous enemy; the Illuminated Primacy _must_ maintain plausible deniability.’ It allowed that statement to sink in for a moment, then continued, ‘Sere Krios will command the mission; Selle Spathi, you will follow his orders.’ Orander paused, then asked sharply, ‘Is there a problem, Selle Spathi?’

“I kept my gaze straight forward, but I could see the tension in Nemia’s posture out the corner of my eye. ‘If I might ask an… impertinent question, _senyim,’_ she ground out, ‘why put Krios in command, and not me?’

“This was an impertinent question, indeed, even a shocking one. Where Arren had encouraged us to ask our questions when we were trainees, in this situation it was entirely inappropriate. To directly challenge our handler’s orders in such a manner was almost unheard of. It was rude to Orander and insulting to me. I went rigid with anger, but otherwise managed to keep control. It wasn’t my place to reprimand her.

“As for Orander, its displeasure was evident in the sudden flat expressionlessness of its voice as it drew itself up tall and said, ‘This mission may require… creative solutions, and Sere Krios has demonstrated a unique talent in this area.’ Its manner was cold as it regarded Nemia critically. ‘This one trusts its reasoning is satisfactory, Selle Spathi?’

“Nemia bowed her head, chastised. ‘Yes, _senyim.’_

“Orander nodded curtly. ‘You are dismissed,’ it said to us.

“We spent the next several days studying the dossiers. The name of the hanar target had been redacted, probably to protect its family member, but a holoimage, known aliases, and other pertinent information were included. It would be meeting the Broker’s agent, a volus named Gandu Pat, in a warehouse in Zakera Ward on the Citadel.

“The hanar was not likely to pose a problem, I decided, nor would the volus himself. Of far more concern were Pat’s bodyguards: two turians and a krogan. According to our information, they almost never left his side. They would have to be dealt with, quickly and quietly.

“Nemia was skeptical. ‘“Quickly and quietly.” On a krogan?’ She shook her head. ‘We’re going to need a backup plan or three for when this thing goes belly-up.’

“I nodded. ‘One of the guards, or else Pat himself, is likely to sound an alarm the instant they realize they’re under attack,’ I said. ‘If we can’t take them all down before that happens, we’ll need to make doubly certain we are not seen.’

“‘And if we are seen?’ she asked. ‘It won’t be difficult for the Shadow Broker to figure out who sent drell assassins after his man.’

“‘No, it won’t,’ I agreed. ‘I imagine the Primacy would disavow us. Deny any connection. We’d be on our own.’

“She shook her head and sighed. ‘Well, Krios,’ she said, ‘I hope you’ve made your peace with Kalahira.’”


	6. A Breath of Wind

“Our first task when we arrived at the Citadel was to confirm our intel on the meeting. …No, it wasn’t that we had any reason to mistrust Orander, not at all. But the information it had given us was known to have a certain level of dubiousness. That was part of our job, too. As you are no doubt aware, the Shadow Broker is the galaxy’s preeminent master at manipulating data; there remained the possibility that the details of our targets’ meeting had been falsified and deliberately leaked. We had to make sure we didn’t end up in the wrong place—or worse, walk into a trap.

“So the first thing I did when we arrived in the Mid-Ward District was go directly to the Zakera Cafe and buy lunch for myself and Nemia—and a small plate of dextro food as well. Though the shopkeeper looked at me strangely when I cut off his lecture about chirality, Nemia, to her credit, waited until we were out of earshot before questioning me. ‘Are we meeting someone?’ she asked pointedly as we sat down.

“Though we had both taken contracts on the Citadel before, only I had previously had occasion to visit Zakera Ward. I had begun to cultivate a few semi-regular contacts among certain… hmm, low-profile individuals who frequented the Neon Markets, near the shipping warehouse that was the starting point for our investigation. They had proven helpful in gathering information in the past, and I hoped they could do so again. ‘An informant,’ I told her, deliberately vague. I knew her well enough by now to doubt she would approve of my choice of ‘informant.’ ‘I hope.’

“‘You hope?’ Nemia sighed and shook her head, staring skeptically at the third plate on the table. ‘What is this, some kind of signal?’

“I suppressed a smile. ‘You might say that.’

“Before long, as I’d anticipated, my ‘signal’ was spotted, and my contact approached, slowly and cautiously, saying nothing. He eyed Nemia suspiciously, but when I gave him a reassuring nod, he sat beside me and began to devour the meal I’d set out for him.

“He was a turian, barefoot, barefaced, and dirty, and all of perhaps seven years old.

“Nemia stared from him to me in astonishment. ‘May I have a word, _brother?’_ she asked, for such was our cover for this mission. She drew me aside, and we pitched our voices low so the boy wouldn’t hear us. _‘This_ is your contact?’ she hissed. ‘This… this _drala’fa?’_

“‘You would be surprised at what he, and those like him, may see and remember,’ I replied.

“‘He’s a child!’ She was practically trembling with righteous anger. ‘You would put the lives of children at risk for your contracts?’

“‘You wound me, Spathi,’ I shot back indignantly. ‘I’m only going to ask him what he may already have seen. I would never endanger innocent lives.’

“She glared at me with narrowed eyes. ‘I know your reputation, Krios. Forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you.’

“It wasn’t a fair assessment of my—well, perhaps it was, given that she had little more than rumor and reputation on which to base her judgement. By that time, I was seen by many as… maybe more than a little reckless. But I didn’t want to dignify the accusation with a response, so I did what I should have done many times before, and many times after: I swallowed my pride and sat down.

“The turian boy—Spicus was his name—was able to confirm our intel. He had seen the volus and his henchmen at the warehouse many times; it seemed Pat had an arrangement with the security guards that allowed him to conduct his business there. And while he couldn’t positively identify the hanar we were looking for, he had seen Pat meet with _a_ hanar more than once.

“‘What do they talk about?’ I asked him.

“Spicus shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘The volus and his guys always get there first and wait inside. The hanar gets there later, by himself.’

“‘Good, that’s very good,’ I replied. ‘Spicus, my sister and I need to talk to them both, but we haven’t been able to get in touch with either of them. Do you know when they’ll be meeting next?’

“That vague and unconvincing cover story wouldn’t get us past warehouse security, but it was enough for the child. He nodded. ‘You got here just in time. They come here every month, same day. Should be here in…’ He counted on his fingers, then grinned at me. ‘Three days!’

“Three days—plenty of time to scout the warehouse and create a plan of attack. I clapped Spicus on the shoulder. ‘Excellent. You have been wonderfully helpful, as always, my friend.’ I handed him a credit chit. ‘That should cover a few more hot meals. Take care of yourself.’  
  
“Nemia watched him as he scampered off, then nodded to me in grudging approval. ‘Clever,’ she admitted, and I fought back a pleased smile. ‘I suggest we locate our accommodations and begin to prepare.’

“Our strategy took shape over the next several days. It was important that we take down all five people as nearly simultaneously as possible, so we decided it would be best to split up. Nemia would take the sniper’s nest on the second level, and handle both the primary and secondary targets. She would monitor C-Sec communications as well. I would hide in an air duct on ground level, and take on the bodyguards hand-to-hand.  
  
“Nemia was skeptical. ‘Hand-to-hand? Are you serious?’ she demanded. ‘You’re talking about fighting a krogan, Krios!’

“‘I can handle the krogan,’ I replied. ‘It’s imperative that no one in that room is allowed send any kind of transmission. Fighting me will distract the guards from doing so while you take out the targets.’

“She still looked dubious, but didn’t argue. ‘If you say so,’ she said.

“When the day came, we infiltrated the warehouse through the ventilation ducts—the boon of assassins everywhere, as they’re nearly impossible to secure. Gandu Pat and his bodyguards were already there, waiting for the hanar. Hidden from their sight by a flimsy metal grate, I studied their positions. I would take out the turians first, I decided, as their reaction time would be far faster than the krogan’s. I could probably kill them both before he could get a shot off. Both Pat and the hanar would be dead within seconds, and then Nemia could shoot the krogan if he overpowered me. But I doubted he would.

“‘I’m in position,’ I murmured into the radio, low enough that the bodyguards wouldn’t hear. ‘Do you have visual on the secondary?’

_“‘Affirmative,’_ she replied.

“‘Wait for my signal,’ I said. ‘On my mark, shoot the hanar first, then Pat.’

“Her acknowledgement was short, clipped. _‘Understood.’_

“‘Fire into the wall once or twice as well; make it look like hitting the hanar was an accident,’ I reminded her. ‘And for the love of Arashu, _don’t hit me.’_

“I chuckled at her answering hiss. _‘You wound me, Krios,’_ she snarled.

“We waited in silence until the hanar arrived, alone, as little Spicus had said it would be. Almost immediately, Nemia’s voice came over the radio. _‘Primary target identified. Firing solution confirmed.’_

“I drew a deep breath, relishing the feel of adrenaline coursing through my veins in anticipation of the fight ahead. ‘Mark.’

“Being on the receiving end of sniper fire, even when you’re not the target, is always a bit unsettling. It’s not like vids, where laser sights blaze bright red lines all the way to the shooter’s position. You don’t hear the report of the rifle or the whine of the bullet in the air. But suddenly, flesh explodes and blood sprays, and the target is usually dead before he knows he’s in danger. _‘Primary eliminated,’_ Nemia reported curtly.

“As the hanar collapsed in a tangle of limp tentacles, I kicked out the grate and launched myself at the nearest turian, tackling him to the ground. With one hand on his chin and the other on his crest, I snapped his neck before the other could draw his weapon. The krogan was just beginning to react, but he was between me and the remaining turian. I charged at him. Nemia’s voice hissed in my ear, _‘Krios!’_ but I ignored her. With a mighty leap, I vaulted over the krogan, using his mass to propel myself up and forward and plant my feet on the turian’s keel. He went down, and I rolled off him into a crouch, pistol already drawn, and three quick shots ensured he would never get up. That just left the krogan—and, inexplicably, Pat. Nemia had had more than enough time to reload, and yet still he stood.

“‘Spathi, report,’ I growled as I squared off with the last guard. I tossed my pistol aside—it was fine for killing turians, but not nearly powerful enough to take down a shielded and armored krogan.

_“‘Secondary has something in his hand. Unable to identify.’_

“There was no time to worry about that. ‘Take the shot,’ I commanded.

_“‘Krios—’_

“‘That’s an order!’ The words came out on a grunt as the krogan lunged at me and I tried to dodge. There was a split second’s hesitation, then a soft _thud_ and a foul smell as Nemia’s bullet ripped into Pat’s pressure suit, causing it to abruptly decompress.

“My attention remained focused on grappling with the krogan, so I barely registered the accelerating beeping noise until Nemia cursed in my ear. _‘Thane, it’s a deadman switch!’_

“The device Pat had been holding was a grenade, activated when he’d released his grip. There was nowhere to go, and no time to escape, so I took the only course of action remaining to me. I twisted out of the krogan’s grasp and dove toward the grenade, snatching it up off the floor and jamming my thumb down on the button at the same instant the beeps would have become continuous and it would have presumably detonated.

“The countdown stopped, but the krogan was charging me again, roaring with blood rage. He stumbled as another bullet from Nemia dropped his shields, and I threw the most powerful Warp I could muster, shattering his armor and dropping him to his knees.

“Nemia swore again. _‘C-Sec incoming. ETA thirty seconds. Finish him and get out of there!’_

“I couldn’t kill him one-handed that quickly, so I scrambled for my pistol as the stunned krogan began to gather his wits. By the time he’d staggered to his feet, I’d dug the barrel into the soft tissue under his chin and pulled the trigger once, twice. Finally, it was over. Nemia fired a few more shots into the wall to complete our setup as I slipped back into the duct, the grenade still clutched in one hand, riding a high of relief and triumph.  
  
“We made it to our rendezvous point without incident, but my hand was beginning to ache by the time I arrived. Without a word, Nemia grabbed my wrist roughly, nearly causing me to lose my grip, her omni-tool already active and scanning the grenade’s workings. I silently thanked Arashu that she was there: I hadn’t the technical skills to deactivate it myself. When it was finally rendered inert, she snatched it from my hand, spun on her heel, and stalked off toward the docks to meet our transport.

“She spoke not a word to me for the entire journey back to Kahje. For my part, I passed the time writing my report on the operation, and reveling in what I perceived to be my victory. It was all the more satisfying knowing that Nemia had witnessed it all: my quick takedown of the two turians, my heroic dive for the bomb, and finishing off the krogan with only one free hand. It was the feeling I’d been trying to capture ever since the contract for Caelian—the knowledge of having a _witness._

“So I continued to seek it out. I volunteered for partnered assignments at every opportunity, eager to show off, chasing that high. Rarely did I work alone for the better part of a year. Then finally, a contract came up that provided the Primacy with a unique opportunity, and Orander called for me, specifically. And that… that was when my pride nearly became my downfall.

“I hope you will forgive this… perhaps over-long exposition. But I thought it important to show you what kind of young man I was, and some of what transpired to make me that way, so you may truly understand the tale I yet intend to tell.”


	7. Well Heeded, Well Heard

"Damn, Thane." Kasumi shook her head, grinning. "You were badass as a kid. Not that you aren't still, of course, but… well, here I thought _I_ was the one you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley."

Thane inclined his head with a small smile. "We do by necessity share a talent for stealth and secrecy."

"Just imagine if we didn't have a galaxy to save," said Kasumi. "It could be the two of us against the universe. You and me, we could rule the night together!" She laughed, gesturing grandly and playfully. "We'd be the Terror of Omega—no, the Scourge of the Citadel!"

But Thane didn't laugh with her. Instead, his brow ridge quirked into a somewhat pained expression as he remarked, "It would seem I've failed to make my point."

"What, that you were a reckless, arrogant bastard as a teenager?" She scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Who wasn't? God knows, I still am."

Thane hummed thoughtfully. "Indeed."

From the tone of his voice, Kasumi wasn't sure if she should be insulted by that or not. But the faraway look in his eyes suggested he'd entirely missed her weak attempt at a joke.

"'Reckless' is precisely the word Arren used to describe me some time later," Thane continued. "But when one serves the Compact, one does not have the luxury of behaving like a child. It runs counter to all of our training and discipline. Yet that was the one lesson I could not seem to learn."

* * *

"By the time I was sixteen, I had developed quite the mixed reputation among my peers. While I was trusted with the most complicated and dangerous contracts, as there was never any doubt I would complete them, I was also known to take rather foolish risks in pursuit of even greater challenges. Therefore, though I often worked with a partner, few were willing to work with me twice. Except, perhaps strangely, for Nemia. 'Someone has to keep you in check,' she would say. I never took that very seriously, which served only to frustrate her more. We were at each other's throats more often than not, but we were both too proud to back down.

"I continued to write to Arren, as well. But in addition to boasting about my assignments, I also began to complain about my colleagues. How they did not 'understand my methods,' and other such childish nonsense. My most scathing words I saved for Nemia. I'll not repeat them, but… if I should ever see her again, I must beg her forgiveness.

"Arren's replies to my letters became steadily shorter and more infrequent, and I eventually stopped hearing from him at all. Were I not so enamored of my own self-importance, this might have concerned me, but at the time, I thought little of it.

"Orander, for its part, didn't seem to care how I got my jobs done, only that I did. I proved myself reliable, if impetuous, and I soon became its first call for assignments that were in any way… unusual. Therefore, when an asari demagogue on Cyone began attracting the attention of multiple governments, Orander summoned me to take the contract.

"Cyone, as you may be aware, is one of the few asari colonies that can truly be called a military stronghold. The planet was attacked multiple times during the Krogan Rebellions, but the asari held it each time. It remains heavily fortified to this day. And the matriarchs that govern the colony, some of whose mothers served in the Rebellions, still maintain that tradition of military excellence. However, this has tended to lead to a bit of a cultural remove from the rest of the Asari Republics.

"As the asari are generally content to wield their influence through cultural dominance and political prowess, many overlook the fact that their navy is second only to that of the turians in firepower, and their commandos are the far superior warriors. One of the matriarchs on Cyone, Erissana, was beginning to advocate for the abolition of the Treaty of Farixen. She was concerned, she said, about the recent arrival of humans on the galactic scene, and pointed as an example to what your people call the First Contact War. She warned that the 'bellicose and bloodthirsty' humans would try to overtake and conquer the Citadel races, referring back to the 'countless' wars fought on Earth within her lifetime alone. She maintained that the only way to secure peace in the galaxy was through asari military dominance.

"No, that did not 'sit well' with the Alliance at all. Nor with the Illuminated Primacy, who had no desire to live under anyone's martial law. But the asari High Council would take no action regarding Erissana: not to support her ideas, but neither to suppress them. And so she continued to gain followers, and her ideas continued to gain traction. Alliance officials also hesitated to move against her, but Cerberus—still in its infancy in 2162, but beginning to gain influence—was willing to act.

"So a deal was struck. Cerberus wanted Erissana eliminated, but their intelligence regarding her compound suggested that it would take someone with well-trained biotic abilities to get through her security. There were as yet few human biotics at the time, so Cerberus turned to the hanar. Agreeing with their assessment, the hanar then turned to me.

"The objective was a simple one: kill Matriarch Erissana before she gave her speech at the unveiling of a new cruiser recently completed at Cyone's shipyards. She didn't yet have enough of a following for her death to turn her into a martyr, but both the Primacy and Cerberus wanted her dealt with before she reached that point. So the mission was time-critical—that was our first complication.

"The second was that it was to be a joint operation, a partnered assignment. I was well used to that by this point, of course. But instead of working with another drell, someone I knew, had trained with and could trust, I would be going on this mission with one of Cerberus's men.

"I—no, I was more… irritated than apprehensive. Without even reading the dossier I was given, I was convinced that my skills would so far outstrip his that he would prove more a hindrance than a help. Humans, after all, do not usually train assassins from childhood. I could not imagine that his training could equal that of the Compact. But I had my orders, and it was not my place to question them.

"Before I had the chance to read the dossiers for the mission, however, I received a message on my omni-tool. Arren was contacting me, for the first time in months—and to my great surprise, he wanted to speak to me in person. So I went to see him immediately.

"When I arrived at his home, I found him much changed from when last I'd seen him. He had lost weight, and the once-vibrant deep green of his scales had faded to something close to gray. He looked… frail. Tired. But his eyes remained bright, his gaze as sharp and piercing as ever.

"I'm not sure what I expected from that conversation, but it was certainly not the admonishments with which he immediately assailed me. 'It was against my recommendation that Orander gave you this assignment,' he said.

"I was stunned by this, and struggled to maintain the neutral and professional demeanor he had always expected of me. 'Might I ask why, Sere Xiphas?' I asked carefully.

"Arren eyed me coldly for a moment, then coughed once and shook his head almost sadly. He began to pace back and forth. 'Ever since you graduated from my tutelage, I have watched your career. You were the brightest, most promising student I've ever had. I was proud of you.'

"He paused, his pointed use of the past tense carrying the sting of an accusation. 'But you have grown boastful and brash,' he continued. 'You take risks that endanger yourself, your mission, and others. You are reckless.' He stopped pacing and glared at me. 'You have disappointed me.'

"Never once in my life had anyone said that to me before, and I recoiled as though he'd actually struck me. 'I believe my record speaks for itself,' I snapped indignantly. 'I fail to see the problem.'

"' _That_ is precisely the problem,' Arren replied, coughing again. I am ashamed to confess that I was too caught up in my own irritation to be as concerned for him as I should have been. Perhaps if I had stopped to think… But it is useless to speculate now.

"'You are an exceptionally proficient killer, I grant you that,' he said. 'Your skills outstrip even my own. You know how to be invisible, and silent as a shadow. But what you utterly fail to understand is _why.'_

"This took me by surprise. 'I have never been caught, nor even seen on a job, except by my targets in their last moments,' I countered when he stopped to catch his breath. 'What difference does it make?'

"The look Arren gave me then was one of pained exasperation, making me feel like a small child once more, which only served to exacerbate my anger. I truly couldn't imagine what I'd done to merit such a lecture. 'We work in secret, without thought of self,' he said, his own ire evident in his voice. 'There must, by necessity, be no recognition for what we do. But you—you seek affirmation, acknowledgement, glory. You _want_ to be seen.'

"'I know better than to—' I began to protest, but Arren cut me off.

"'More so than that, you are _proud,'_ he all but snarled. 'What we do is not something to take pride in. It is evil, sinful. Shameful. We are not to glory in it, but beg forgiveness! Tell me,' he demanded suddenly, 'do you still visit the temple after each contract, as I taught you?'

"I frowned, uncertain where this line of questioning was leading. 'I do.'

"'And how long has it been since you prayed? Truly prayed?' Arren wheezed, his breath coming in noisy, shallow gasps. 'For how long have you instead mumbled meaningless platitudes in the Gods' ears? How long has it been… since…'

"He trailed off, swaying on his feet as he struggled to breathe. It was enough to snap me out of my self-obsessed defensiveness, and I rushed forward to catch him as he fell. He was alarmingly warm, but shivering as if cold. 'Sere Xiphas, you are not well,' I said as I helped him into a chair. He could not answer, which was perhaps what frightened me most.

"I called for emergency medical transport. I answered the dispatcher's questions as best I could, then all I could do was wait. When the medics finally arrived—

" _Flashing lights and blaring sirens. Help has arrived. Two medics bring a stretcher, a large bag, and more questions. Omni-tools glow as they scan him, taking vitals. They call out numbers and acronyms I don't understand. 'Pulse ox 82, CO2 47. BP 190 over 98. Get him on CPAP and start an IV.' The lead medic turns to me. 'Does he have any allergies to medications?'_

"' _I—I don't know.'_

"' _All right, that's okay,' she says soothingly, and I'm grateful for her professionalism and compassion. To her partner, she says, 'Get some talmuterol in the nebulizer. I don't want to RSI him, but we will if we have to.'_

" _Though they act with urgency, the medics remain calm. I take some small comfort in that. But I can only watch as they strap a mask to Sere Xiphas's face, administer drugs, and attach tubes. The sight is profoundly unsettling. So when the ambulance finally takes off, lights blazing and sirens wailing once more, I am dizzy with relief. I do not follow."_

* * *

Thane bowed his head as if ashamed, and said softly, "That was the last time I saw Arren alive."


	8. As Black as He Is Painted

A brittle silence descended.

For a moment, Thane looked so forlorn, so lost, that Kasumi could almost see the teenager he'd been, watching his mentor crumble and collapse before his eyes. It must have been terrifying enough at the time. But now, knowing that a similar fate awaited him in probably less than a year's time… the thought made Kasumi's stomach hurt. She wanted to reach out and take his hands, but held herself back at the last moment, uncertain if the small gesture of comfort would be welcome or not. She cast about for something to say, but no words would come.

Thankfully, though, the moment was brief, and Thane coughed into his fist, his brow ridge furrowed in what might have been embarrassment. "My apologies. That memory… is a difficult one." Folding his hands in front of him once more, he took a few more seconds to collect himself before continuing.

* * *

"There was nothing I could do but complete my assignment. My instructions were to meet my counterpart at the Cerberus base on Nepheron, where we would be briefed on the details of the mission. And so I fairly fled Kahje, turning my whole attention to my work in a vain effort to bury the conflicting anxiety, guilt, and anger that plagued me.

"It was only on the journey that I finally deigned to read the dossier on the man I'd be working with, and I had to admit to being fairly impressed. He had enlisted in the Alliance military twenty years prior at the age of eighteen. After serving honorably in the First Contact War as a black ops sniper, he was so dissatisfied with the terms of the armistice that he had chosen to leave the service just a few years short of being eligible for retirement. The nascent Cerberus organization had recruited him shortly thereafter, and he had quickly become one of their most highly skilled assassins. Between those two careers, his kill count rivaled some of the Compact's best.

"However, his transitional training by Cerberus had been perfunctory and brief, and he relied largely upon the skills he'd acquired during his military service. Though these had served him well up to this point, I, whether rightly or wrongly, had my doubts.

"You can appreciate the hubris of my attitude, I think. I, a child of barely sixteen, who despite my profession had actually led a fairly sheltered life thus far, dared to sit in judgement of a man more than twice my age, with far broader experience, whom I'd not even met.

"To be fair, I was well used to estimating my targets' capabilities based on dossiers alone, and was quite good at it. My mistake was in assuming that a different methodology was necessarily inferior.

"Ah. Forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself.

"The compound on Nepheron was largely underground, its single point of ingress guarded by a pair of bored foot soldiers armed with anti-tank weapons, and two poorly hidden snipers. I suspect their purpose was more to guard against the thresher maws known to inhabit the area, rather than any sort of organized assault. Nevertheless, I was acutely aware of the snipers' sights trained on me as I entered the building.

"Inside, I was met by more security: four guards with assault rifles held at low ready fanned out around me, prepared to spring into action if I made a single wrong move. One of them, presumably the captain, stepped forward as I removed my helmet. 'Surrender your weapons,' he ordered.

"Of course, I refused. I had been given very specific and detailed instructions as to what to do, and what to expect, upon my arrival, and turning over my weapons had not been among them. I was there not as a prisoner, but as an equal, and I insisted upon being treated accordingly. But this only succeeded in raising tensions as the guards leveled their rifles at me.

"Surrounded and outgunned, I thought I'd been betrayed, lured into a trap designed to capture or eliminate me. I quickly took stock of my situation, to evaluate the danger and plan my escape.

"Offensively, I had little to work with. My sniper rifle was far too heavy and slow to be of any use. The only other firearm in my possession was a small submachine gun, which might have been more effective if I could bring it into play, but the guards would begin shooting the moment I reached for it. Without cover, I would be dead before I could return fire. I could Throw one or two men hard enough to neutralize them temporarily, but their position made it impossible to take out all four.

"Defensively, I had even less. A stack of crates in the corner behind me provided the only cover in the room, and then only until the guards shifted position. Then I would be well and truly trapped, hemmed in on all sides as their fire was funneled directly at me.

" _Time seems to slow. I turn and sprint toward the crates, focusing my biotics on the two guards at that end of the room and Throwing them as hard as I can. They slam into the wall and collapse. The other two open fire. My shields absorb a few hits as I skid into cover. They'll be on me again in a moment._

" _A moment is all I need. I slide a thermal clip into my SMG and fire into their path. Wearing down their shields. Holding them back. Buying more time._

" _It's only a few seconds more before my biotics are recharged. I lean out of cover and fire again. Their shields fall. My amp burns as I Throw a crate from the top of the stack. It slams into their armor, driving them to the floor._

" _I stand and approach their unconscious bodies. It would be a simple matter to put a bullet in each of their heads. But a nagging suspicion holds me back._

"I barely had time to catch my breath before the door leading into the main compound slid open behind me. I spun and trained my weapon on the man standing there—but he made no move to attack, instead leaning on the doorframe, applauding slowly. 'Oh, well done,' he said, with admiration so exaggerated as to be condescending. 'The Illusive Man will be impressed.' He surveyed the room, frowning. 'And you even let them live. How… civilized of you.'

"After another moment's hesitation, I holstered my weapon. 'You mean to say this was a test?' I demanded. 'I find it difficult to believe the Illusive Man would risk the lives of his own people so casually.'

"The yet-unidentified man laughed at that. 'That's because you don't know near as much about him—or Cerberus—as you think you do. These guys are expendable.' He grinned, the expression unsettling and somehow cruel. 'But I'm sure he'll appreciate you allowing him to _expend_ them somewhere else.'

"I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Such callous disregard for life… I had been raised, despite my profession—or perhaps because of it—to regard all life as sacred, and despite Arren's accusations to the contrary, I did. I don't think I realized how truly I believed that until that day. The attitude Cerberus espoused was utterly alien to me.

"So I changed the subject. 'You are Stiv Kay, I presume.' I held out my hand to him, hoping the familiar gesture would help to set his mind at ease about working alongside a non-human.

"But he just stared down at me, his lip curled in a faint sneer as though I'd offered him a grave insult rather than a greeting. 'Yeah, that's me,' he said finally. Then he turned on his heel and stalked toward the entrance to the main compound. 'Let's go. Don't want to keep the Illusive Man waiting.'

"Kay led me to a small comms room at the far end of the building—as you know, the Illusive Man rarely meets with anyone in person, preferring to communicate via QEC from his own hideout. A security measure, I'm certain, and one I'd call paranoid if it hadn't worked so well for him to this day. It's quite clever, really, how he uses the technology's greatest weakness—its exceedingly limited bandwidth—to his great advantage.

"Admire him? No. But I can certainly appreciate the cunning simplicity of his tactics.

"The hologram that flickered to life before us was of a figure seated in a chair, a lit cigarette in hand—and nothing else. There was no context to the image, no background that might have provided a clue to his location. Even his face was indistinct, though I suspect that was due more to the limitations of the technology at the time, rather than any real attempt to conceal his identity. Nevertheless, it served to create an aura of mystery about him that was likely intentional, as well.

"' _Mr. Krios, thank you for joining us,'_ he said to me. _'I trust the door guards didn't give you too much trouble.'_

"Kay smirked at me, as though he thought I might complain about my earlier treatment—and for a moment, I confess, I considered doing just that, politeness be damned. Instead, I replied simply, 'Nothing I couldn't handle.'

"The Illusive Man chuckled, and I suddenly had the uneasy feeling he knew exactly what had transpired moments before. _'I'm sure. The dossier your superiors forwarded to me was… impressive. Especially for one so young.'_ He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that further obscured his features. _'Now, to business. You are aware of the situation on Cyone?'_

"'Of course,' I replied, surprised and perhaps offended that he thought it necessary to ask.

"' _Of course,'_ he repeated dryly, and Kay rolled his eyes at my insolence. _'Then you know that Matriarch Erissana's views pose a clear and present threat both to humanity and to the Illuminated Primacy, but neither of our governments are willing to risk war with the asari by taking official action to mitigate that threat.'_ He leaned forward, his face coming into sharper focus. _'But as you both are well aware, neither of our organizations constitutes_ official _action.'_

"Kay smirked at that, but said nothing.

"' _Your mission,'_ the Illusive Man continued, _'is to eliminate the Matriarch as quietly as possible. We don't want a spectacle; it should be quick and clean. The trick is going to be getting through her security.'_ He paused, then asked, _'Have you ever faced a squad of asari commandos, Krios?'_

"I was forced to admit I had not. 'Not directly, no.' Down the scope of a sniper rifle, perhaps, but never in actual combat. Even I wasn't that foolish.

"The Illusive Man nodded and sat back in his chair. _'Not many humans have, either. Not that lived to tell about it. But that's where you come in.'_ He brought his cigarette to his lips once more. _'I asked for help on this mission because I felt it required someone with well-trained biotic powers. Mr. Kay, however, disagrees with me.'_

"'Yeah, I do.' Kay folded his arms defiantly. 'I can handle this on my own, sir.'

"' _I don't doubt it,'_ the Illusive Man reassured him. The tone of his voice was placating and a bit condescending, obviously calculated to deliberately irritate Kay. _'But I like to prepare for every eventuality.'_ To me, he said, _'Kay is one of my best agents. He gets the job done, but his methods are very orthodox. You, Krios, have a reputation for finding creative solutions, in addition to your formidable biotics. And since I can't guarantee Erissana won't have some surprises in store, that kind of outside-the-box thinking may just be what gets the two of you out of there alive.'_

"He picked up a datapad and tapped at the controls. _'I'm sending dossiers to both of you on the Matriarch and her closest bodyguards, as well as what intelligence we have on her compound. It's not much, but you've both completed contracts on less. You'll be going in under the pretense of attending the unveiling of the cruiser_ Arphelia _. Erissana will be making a speech at the ceremony—take her out before then, or we risk her picking up a following that will carry on her agenda without her.'_

"'It will be done,' I said.

"' _Good. Nip this one in the bud, gentlemen. Happy hunting.'_

As the Illusive Man's image faded away, Kay rounded on me. Drawing himself up to his full height—he was about ten centimeters taller than me, and likely thought he could intimidate me—he snarled, 'I don't care what he just said. I don't want to hear your "creative solutions." This is _my_ op; you follow _my_ lead. Understand?'

"'That was not my understanding of our orders,' I argued.

"'Well, those are _my_ orders. You don't like it, go home.'

"And so began a mission whose ultimate consequences even my darkest nightmares couldn't predict."


	9. With Fortune For His Foe

"The Voyager Cluster's mass relay is in the Yangtze system, so we had about four days' travel ahead of us. We would need every moment of that time to plan our mission, and to work out our… hmm, differences.

"Our difficulties began as soon as we left Nepheron. Once we'd exited the atmosphere, Kay set the ship to autopilot and turned to me. 'All right, here's how this is going to happen,' he said, and gestured to my omni-tool. 'Bring up your map of the compound.'

"The command caught me by surprise, as I had long since deleted the map, the dossiers, and all other files associated with this mission. It was standard procedure. 'I did not keep a copy,' I replied archly.

"Kay snorted. 'Came prepared, did you?' Sneering, he shook his head. 'I should've figured as much, from an upstart child like you.'

"I held his gaze as calmly as I was able, refusing to rise to his bait. 'I need only read a document once in order to memorize it. To keep it beyond that constitutes an unnecessary risk.' I refrained from adding that this had been one of my earliest lessons. Instead, despite the powerful temptation to boast of my superior memory—and, in my premature estimation, superior training—I stated these facts as dispassionately as I could. It took conscious effort not to meet his condescension with my own.

"Kay only rolled his eyes in response, and opened the map on his own omni-tool. 'Our cover gets us into the gala dinner, here,' he said, indicating the large ballroom. 'Our weapons won't be allowed inside, of course. They'll be checked at the door and stored in the armory, over here. This ventilation system'—he traced the line across the map—'connects to every room on this level, including this cloakroom. I'll create enough of a distraction for you to get inside, and you'll retrieve our gear. Watch out for cameras. Once I've sent Erissana's security off on a wild goose chase, I'll meet you in the guard office, here.' He looked me up and down with obvious doubt. 'Think you can handle that much? I carry big guns.'

"'I prefer lighter weapons, myself, but I believe I can manage,' I ground out stiffly, and not without some annoyance. His attitude was swiftly becoming tiresome. However, his plan thus far was sound—which, though I refused to acknowledge it at the time, only irritated me more. I'd had similar ideas on how to approach the assignment, and I had been prepared to defend them. Forcefully, if necessary. That he'd spoken them first was a blow to my ego. 'And how, precisely, do you propose to distract the guards in both the armory and the office, from the ballroom?'

"Kay bared his teeth in what might have been a grin if it had not been so malicious. 'Leave that to me.'

"As vague and condescending as that answer was, it was nevertheless clear we were thinking along similar lines. I should have been grateful to be working with someone of like mind… well, someone with whom I could agree on strategy, anyway. Nemia and I had often found ourselves at odds when planning missions together. This one, then, should have been easy. And perhaps it would have been, had I been content to step back and allow Kay to take the lead. But my pride would not permit it, and I was determined to assert myself. 'Very well. At the conclusion of the dinner, Erissana will retire to her quarters, accompanied by three bodyguards,' I said before he could continue. 'Two will enter her chambers ahead of her to sweep the room for threats, while the third remains outside. She will be at her most vulnerable while they are split up. If you seal the door behind them, I can eliminate the Matriarch from here.' I indicated an air vent in the corridor. 'I trust your technical skills are up to the task,' I added pointedly. I found myself unable to resist questioning his capabilities as he'd questioned mine.

"Kay ignored the barb, though, and barked an incredulous laugh. 'You want to leave three asari commandos _alive?'_ he demanded. 'I don't think so!'

"'Our contract is only for the Matriarch,' I argued. 'We will remain unseen, giving the commandos no target. And our mission will be accomplished with a minimum of collateral damage.'

"'Collateral… this _bitch_ wants to wipe humanity off the face of the galaxy, and you're worried about _collateral damage?'_ Kay shook his head. 'This is why I didn't want to work with a goddamn alien. You don't have a stake in this.'

"I didn't bother to tell him the Illuminated Primacy was just as threatened by Erissana's ideas as was the Systems Alliance. 'I was trained never to take a life needlessly,' I replied instead. 'And if we leave the Matriarch's closest protectors alive, they will become the prime suspects in her death.'

"This clearly had not occurred to Kay, and though he was just as clearly loath to admit it, he conceded my point. 'Fine,' he growled. 'But if this goes sideways, it's on _you.'_

"'I shall take full responsibility,' I said drily.

"I would later come to rue those words.

"The remainder of our journey passed similarly. Kay took every opportunity he could find to second-guess and belittle me, and I'm afraid it wasn't long before I succumbed to the temptation to respond in kind. Even our weapons became a point of contention.

"The day before we were to reach Cyone, Kay peered over my shoulder as I was cleaning my weapons. He stared for a moment between the rifle in my hands, the small submachine gun I'd just finished with, and my dagger lying beside it, then said flatly, 'Tell me this isn't all you've got.'

"I didn't even look up at him. 'It's all I need.'

"'What even are these?' he sneered. 'Ammo clips? _Please_ don't tell me these are pre-mass-accelerator weapons.'

"I was a little surprised at how little attention he paid to the equipment he was criticizing. That he was so fixated on the one detail that he evidently couldn't tell cutting-edge technology from antique firearms was alarming. Looking back, I suspect he was trying to bait me into another argument. He certainly succeeded. 'They're thermal clips. Experimental technology,' I said. 'I can eject one and reload in a fraction of the time it takes a standard heat sink to vent.'

"'Experimental.' Kay folded his arms and glared at me. 'And what, exactly, makes you think it's okay to bring _experimental_ tech on a mission like this? You save that shit for the practice range.'

"I finished reassembling my rifle—the prototype Incisor Arren had given me—and performed a brisk functions check. 'It has served me well for several years.'

"'I'm sure. But just because something's new, doesn't make it better. Or even good.' He picked up my dagger from the table. 'And what is this? It's… cute.'

"'It is effective in close quarters,' I all but snarled, 'and I would thank you not to touch it.'

"With a derisive snort, he threw it back down, forcing me to catch it before it slid over the edge of the table. It is perhaps ironic that he chose to disparage that particular blade, as it would eventually be the one to…

"Well… let me say only that I have since done terrible things with that blade. Things I… do not necessarily regret.

"Kay then turned to the weapons locker and removed his own equipment. 'This is what we use in the big leagues, Krios. The tried and true tools of the trade.'

"He had not exaggerated when he said he carried 'big guns.' His sniper rifle was an old, heavily modified Volkov X, what I've heard humans call a 'workhorse': well-used and clearly worn, but meticulously cared for. For backup, he carried a Karpov VII pistol in similar condition. The Karpov alone weighed nearly as much as my Incisor, and was powerful enough, accurate enough, and slow enough to almost be a second sniper weapon.

"I was unimpressed. They were powerful, yes, but bulky and loud. Weapons of terror and destruction. Given the right conditions, the report of a Volkov can be heard for nearly a kilometer. It's more suited to military action than this kind of operation. 'Just because something is "tried and true,"' I shot back, 'does not mean it cannot be improved upon.'

"Kay's face turned a… satisfying shade of red. 'Well, I'd like to see how that little pigsticker of yours does against _this,'_ he said, and produced a blade that indeed dwarfed my own.

"That blade, too, was destined for terrible… terrible things.

"I…

"Ahem. My apologies.

"Kay's blade might more properly have been called a cutlass, about half a meter long, curved, single-edged. To my chagrin, I began to wonder belatedly just how I would be able to carry all of these weapons to our rendezvous point. The weight of them would not be an issue, but their size was problematic. I would be smuggling them through the building's air ducts—a tight enough fit with only my own loadout. Adding three large and unfamiliar weapons would require creative solutions, indeed, if I was to keep them from rattling against the walls and arousing suspicion.

"Had I been wiser, I might have swallowed my pride and told him we needed to rethink our plan. But I did not. I could not admit to him that perhaps I'd been wrong. When the time came, I decided, I would improvise.

"I said none of this to Kay, of course, and instead replied only with a bland and insincere 'Impressive.'

"It was perhaps a minor miracle that I didn't provoke him into killing me in a fit of rage before we landed on Cyone. But we arrived in one piece, with a day to spare before the Matriarch's gala, and began to set our plan into motion."


	10. Abandon Hope, Ye Who Enter

"Cerberus had arranged lodging for us at a hotel near Erissana's compound. Our room was on the third floor, with a tiny balcony overlooking the grounds of the upcoming ceremony. It was otherwise small and sparsely appointed—Cerberus didn't yet have access to the near-unlimited funds it now commands, and spent little on luxury. The cramped accommodations were of no concern to me, but Kay complained bitterly. He spent the evening smoking cigarettes on the balcony while I attempted to meditate.

"However, I found myself distracted. Anxious. Determined though I was to show Kay nothing but confidence and competence, I confess I was somewhat nervous. Matriarch Erissana was a high-profile target—the highest to which I'd ever been assigned. She was powerful as well, not just in influence, but also personally: her combat skills and biotics were matched by few. And I was attempting this mission under the auspices of an alien black ops organization, with a partner I did not trust and who did not trust me. I began to wonder if I hadn't finally found myself in over my head.

"Before I could examine that thought too closely, however, Kay's voice shook me out of my ruminations. _'Krios!'_ he hissed. 'Get me my rifle!'

"I did not move, nor even open my eyes. 'Why?' I asked, perhaps petulantly.

"'I have eyes on our target, goddammit! Now do as I say, before we lose her!' I opened my eyes just in time to see him pound his fists on the railing in frustration, cursing. 'Too late. She's gone.' He whirled around to glare at me. 'What the _fuck_ was that?' he demanded.

"'A judgement call,' I replied.

"The look on Kay's face reminded me of nothing more than a volcano about to erupt. 'What the hell do you mean, a _judgement call_?'

"If I'm to be truly honest, I must admit to having found immense satisfaction in so provoking him. Despite my doubts about the mission as a whole, I was confident in the decisions I had just made, and could not resist the temptation to rub his nose in it, as it were. 'I judged that it would be best to stick to our plan,' I said smugly. 'I judged that the sound of your shot would bring the hotel's security to our room in a matter of moments. I judged that your proposed course of action would draw unnecessary attention to our position and ourselves. And I judged our chances of being killed before escaping to be unacceptably high.'

"Two long strides brought Kay's face to within inches of my own, and he snarled, 'Don't you _ever_ question my orders again.'

"His anger bothered me not at all. I felt myself to be in complete control of the mission now—and more than that, as though I had successfully wrested that control from Kay. It was a heady, powerful, and altogether inappropriate line of thought, but it did serve to overwhelm my anxiety for a time.

"The following evening was, as Kay put it, 'show time.'

"It was not uncommon for visitors on Cyone to travel heavily armed, so when we reached the Matriarch's compound, our weapons were checked without incident. Well, nearly. Kay hesitated at first to hand over his blade, but it was too large to conceal, and he would not be allowed inside until he surrendered it. Mine, however, was small enough to be well hidden, so I was able to keep it with me, undetected by the guards. I doubted I would need it, but I felt better knowing it was there.

"We were among the few non-asari present at the gathering, and as such drew an uncomfortable amount of attention. As the dinner drew to a close, I noticed one of Erissana's commando bodyguards whispering to her and nodding at Kay.

"'We may have a problem,' I murmured to Kay, fearing that somehow she'd made us. But before I could warn him further, the Matriarch herself approached us, a smile on her face and suspicion in her eyes. 'Good evening, gentlemen,' she said. 'I don't believe I've had the pleasure.'

"Kay shook her proffered hand. 'Stefan Karlsburg, Envitië Technologies. This is my associate, Cisell Pallos.'

"I bowed. 'It is an honor to meet you, Matriarch.'

"'You are too kind, Sere Pallos,' Erissana replied. She frowned at Kay. 'But I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your company, Mr. Karlsburg.'

"'We're a subsidiary of Baria Frontiers,' Kay said smoothly. 'Envitië Technologies codeveloped many of the innovations in the _Arphelia_ 's navigation systems.'

"Erissana raised her eyebrows in an expression that was simultaneously curious and challenging. 'Oh? And what innovations are those?'

"I saw Kay's jaw clench fractionally as he raced to conjure a believable lie, and I stepped in an instant before his hesitation would have become questionable. I chuckled softly and smiled, praying my own nerves weren't so clearly betraying me. 'I'm afraid those details are beyond our expertise, Matriarch. Our department is public relations. We represent Envitië's interests, but have little knowledge of the specifics of individual projects.'

"The commando at Erissana's side narrowed her eyes, her face pinched as though she'd tasted something sour. She reached for the weapon at her side. 'Matriarch—'

"But Erissana held up a hand, halting the commando in her tracks. 'Stand down, Faella,' she said, almost gently. 'These men are our guests. And I'm certain,' she continued, holding Kay's gaze with narrowed eyes, 'that they know better than to attempt anything… untoward.'

"Kay raised his eyebrows in feigned offense. 'I'm wounded, Matriarch. Nothing of the sort ever crossed my mind.'

"'Of course.' Erissana's pale blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice. 'Nevertheless, be aware that I've reinforced the _Arphelia_ 's cybersecurity. Her _innovations_ remain the sole property of the Asari Republics. You understand.'

"I almost laughed with relief. The Matriarch was suspicious of us, yes, but she thought we were there to steal military secrets. 'You are wise to take precautions,' I said, 'but rest assured, we have no designs on any data regarding the _Arphelia._ '

"Kay glowered at me. 'Come on, Cisell. I think we may have worn out our welcome here. Let's go.' He nodded stiffly to Erissana. 'Matriarch.'

"Erissana dipped her head in response. 'Good evening, gentlemen.'

"When the Matriarch was out of earshot, Kay hissed quietly, '"You are wise to take precautions"? Sure, just go ahead and tell her we have ulterior motives here!'

"'She was already suspicious of us. Nothing we said was going to change that,' I argued. 'Let her think us thieves. It will distract her from our true purpose.'

"With an incredulous snort, Kay shook his head. 'Well, we better move now, before she tightens up her security anyway,' he said. At a normal volume, he added, _'Get your coat,_ Cisell. We're leaving.'

"That was the signal to begin our operation. I began to wend my way through the crowd toward the cloakroom, while Kay headed for the door. I soon lost sight of him.

"I still had no idea exactly how he intended to circumvent all of Erissana's security. It made me uncomfortable, not knowing. A small, nagging, perhaps paranoid voice in the back of my mind wondered if he meant to leave me here. But he was my partner, and I had no choice but to trust him.

"Once alone in the cloakroom, I checked the area's security. But there was no exit except to the ballroom, so surveillance was minimal. It was a simple matter to avoid the single camera's range and slip unseen into the ventilation ducts. To anyone watching monitors or reviewing footage, it would be as if I were never there.

"The ducts themselves were as small as I'd feared. As I crept toward the armory, I began to despair of ever getting our weapons to the rendezvous point undetected. With any luck, I thought, whatever small sounds I made would be dismissed as vermin. The scattering of desiccated droppings that littered the floor certainly attested to them being commonplace. I could only hope the creatures were as noisy as they were ubiquitous.

"I nearly hit my head on the duct walls when Kay's voice over the radio once again startled me out of my thoughts. _'Guard office is secure, Krios. Armory should be clear. Where are you?'_

"'Almost there,' I replied quietly.

"' _Well, hurry up. We only have about seven minutes before someone figures out something's wrong.'_

"At least, that's what I'm fairly certain he said. The radio signal was beginning to break up and fill with static. 'Kay?' I whispered back. 'Kay, can you hear me?'

"There was only silence in response. I was on my own.

"I reached the armory moments later and peered through the the air vent. Immediately, I felt justified in my second-guessing of Kay—the room was not empty as he claimed it would be. Whatever distraction he'd created, it hadn't been enough to leave this post abandoned. 'Armory is not clear, I repeat, not clear,' I murmured into the radio. I didn't know if he could hear me or not.

"For an instant, I flashed back to my very first assignment: Arren gesturing to the man below me as if to say, _Complete your contract._

"I was far less clumsy this time.

" _I drop to the floor, tuck and roll. The guard's barrier shimmers as I leap to my feet, a Warp tears it away. I collapse her knee with a kick, she goes down with a grunt. She grabs for her weapon, too late. I immobilize her with a knee to her spine. Chin in one hand, scalp in the other._

" _I hesitate. She is innocent, only fulfilling her duty. But I must do the same._

" _Arren's voice echoes in my mind:_ Prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken.

" _So I lean down and whisper in her ear, 'Go now to the sea.'_

" _Her neck snaps. She falls still, and so do I. 'Arashu, forgive me.'_

"I… I have always prided myself in clean kills. No unnecessary suffering, and no innocent lives taken. I have not… always succeeded. But this was the first time I felt I'd failed in that goal. And suddenly, her face slackened in death, the asari at my feet looked… very young. I was all at once aware of… of precisely what I'd taken from her. Of how many centuries I'd stolen. I felt…

"Guilty… yes, perhaps. I had no contract for her. She had simply been in my way, and I was… saddened… that I'd had no other choice. I have tried to tell myself that she was no different than, for example, Gandu Pat's bodyguards, whom I'd killed without compunction. But such excuses have always somehow rung hollow.

"I never learned her name. And I'm still not certain why I… why that troubles me so.

"But I had no time for such reflections. I had only five minutes to retrieve our weapons, meet Kay, and get to the Matriarch's chambers.

"And I had encountered an unanticipated complication.

"Of all the skills I'd spent my life honing to as near perfection as I could achieve, computer code has always been my greatest weakness. I'm perfectly capable of picking a standard electronic lock or breaking into minimally secured servers, but any sort of advanced hacking I had long ago given up as hopeless. It was simply not a skill I had found necessary. But suddenly I found myself faced with a problem: the locker in which our weapons were stored was secured far beyond my ability to open. And I didn't have enough omni-gel to force my way in.

"Perhaps Kay could have talked me through it, but I still couldn't raise him on the radio. And we were out of time."


	11. Undone Upon the Ground

"I had no choice but to retreat to the guard office with nothing but the young guard's pistol. There, I found Kay typing at the computer console, redirecting cameras. The room bore signs of violent struggle, and three more asari lay dead at his feet.

"More innocents lost. I could not help but feel responsible. 'Was this necessary, Kay?' I demanded.

"Kay jumped, startled, then glared at me over his shoulder. 'Shit, Krios, where the hell have you been?'

"'Our communications are down. Something is jamming the signal.' I gestured to the bodies on the floor. 'I thought you were going to distract them. Or did I misunderstand your metaphor about undomesticated waterfowl?'

"He blinked in momentary confusion, then snorted derisively. 'Wild goose chase, you pretentious little prick. This was faster.' Before I could protest further, he froze suddenly, stopped what he was doing, and turned to face me fully. 'Krios,' he said slowly, baring his teeth, 'where are our weapons?'

"His face grew red as I explained what had happened in the armory, his hands balling into fists that trembled with rage. 'Are you telling me,' he said, 'that you couldn't retrieve our guns because the weapons locker… was _locked?'_

"I gritted my teeth at the implication. 'It's an extremely sophisticated mechanism,' I shot back defensively. 'Perhaps if our intel had been more complete, we could have avoided this problem.'

"Kay sneered. 'Yeah, looks like _intelligence_ was definitely the problem.'

"I might have risen to his bait had time not been of the essence. 'Nevertheless, we must move quickly if we are to catch up to the Matriarch in time to frame her bodyguards.' I held up the pistol I'd taken. 'This may actually prove more useful in that regard.'

"Kay returned to the computer console and resumed typing as I pulled myself back up into the air duct. 'Right. I found the jamming signal, and… shut it down. We should have comms back.' He hesitated, then muttered, 'Let's get this over with.'

"Something in the tone of his voice gave me pause, and I turned a questioning look back at him.

"He made a dismissive gesture. 'I just don't trust you watching my six. Get going.'

"Kay was significantly taller and broader than I, and thus had some difficulty navigating the ventilation system with any stealth. Though he kept urging me faster, I had to stop more than once to allow him to catch up. He grew more and more irritable the closer we crept to the Matriarch's chambers.

"We made it with only moments to spare. 'Target identified,' I whispered to Kay as Erissana and her commandos approached the door. Out of the public eye, the Matriarch looked tired, almost frail. I'm not certain if she was ill, or if was simply a combination of her age and a long night, but she was certainly not at her best. That is probably the only reason I was to survive the coming encounter.

"Erissana reached out to key the door panel herself, but one of her commandos—Faella, the same one who'd accompanied her at the gala—objected. 'Matriarch, let us sweep the room first. Per your own orders, ma'am.'

"But Erissana shook her head. 'Not tonight. If I have to wait ten minutes for you to find the same nothing that's always there, I shall fall asleep right here.' She gave a weary smile and patted Faella on the shoulder. 'You are dismissed, Faella. Good night.'

"'But—' Faella began, then sighed. 'As you command. Good night, Matriarch.'

"'She is entering her chambers alone,' I whispered to Kay as the door slid closed behind her.

"He drew the pistol he'd taken from one of the dead guards in the security office. 'Seal the door,' he hissed back. 'I got this.'

"I probably could have handled that door on my own. But… well, if I'm to be honest, I was determined to make the kill myself. 'No, I'll go,' I said, and scrambled for the vent that led into her room, Kay's curses ringing in my ears even as the glow of his omni-tool lit the shaft in dull orange.

"I dropped to the floor while her back was turned. I meant to land silently behind the large sofa that bisected the room and wait, hidden, for the right moment. But in my haste, I misjudged the landing by a fraction, and my boot scraped softly along the upholstery. In the otherwise silent room, the sound was deafening.

"Erissana whirled around, her formidable biotics crackling to life in her hands. 'Who's there?' she demanded.

"At the same time, Kay's voice hissed over the radio, swearing again. _'The commandos know something's up. They've come back, and they're trying to override the door. I'll keep it sealed as long as I can, but you don't have much time.'_

"I didn't acknowledge, of course, waiting in silence as Erissana slowly approached. It would have been a simple matter to simply stand up and shoot her with my stolen pistol, but with the guards outside already alerted to a possible problem, I deemed it unwise to fire and remove all doubt. Better to keep this as quiet as possible. Instead, I charged my own biotics, preparing to take her down with a Warp as soon as I had line of sight.

"But her barrier was far stronger than I'd anticipated, so when the battle was finally joined, my opening salvo barely staggered her. She fired back immediately, Throwing me into the far wall. The impact left me momentarily stunned. Recovering quickly, I slid to the floor anyway, and let her think she'd incapacitated me. In my 'fall,' I drew my dagger from its sheath, thanking Amonkira I'd been able to hold on to it. I kept it hidden behind my back, and when she was once again within striking distance, I sprang toward her, the point of my blade aimed at her eye.

"Erissana caught my wrist at the last instant, stepping aside and using my own momentum against me to twist the dagger from my grasp. She wrenched my arm around behind my back. I swept her feet from under her before she could stab me.

"' _Hurry up,'_ Kay snarled in my ear. _'I can't hold them much longer!'_

"I tried to pin the Matriarch to the floor, but she still had my dagger and swung it wildly. The blade slashed across my cheek and I stumbled back. She immediately surged to her feet, biotics flaring, and struck me with a Reave.

"The pain was… intense. I was immobilized as every muscle in my body spasmed. A cruel smile spread across her face as she approached. I was certain I was going to die, but I was determined still to take her down with me.

"So I fought through it. I maintained consciousness through sheer force of will, I think. And as soon as she was within arm's reach, I gathered what strength I had left and lunged toward her. Every movement was agony, and I may have growled something incoherent as I seized her head and twisted with all my might. Her neck snapped, and she slumped to the floor, dead.

"I wanted to collapse beside her. The pain of her attack was fading quickly, but it left behind a trembling exhaustion such as I'd never experienced before. However, I didn't have time to recover. As I bent down to retrieve my dagger, more footsteps outside the door signaled the arrival of reinforcements, and it was at that moment that Kay's override failed and the door slid jerkily open.

"I leapt for the air vent as the first three commandos forced their way in, but I was too late to avoid being seen. They opened fire with assault rifles as Kay pulled me up.

"'I told you we should've just shot her from the balcony, Krios,' he hissed.

"There was a pause in the gunfire from below, and when it resumed a second later, the bullets began punching through the ceiling and into the duct walls: armor piercing. We were as good as dead if we didn't move quickly. But I was weakened, and Kay struggled to turn around in the narrow space.

"So it was perhaps inevitable that we would take some hits. Before we could make our escape, a bullet tore into my thigh, and I faltered for an instant and cried out. Kay stopped and turned to sneer something at me, but before he could say a word… a hole appeared where his left eye had been. Time… time seemed to slow as a rivulet of blood ran down his face, and he, too, slumped over, unmoving.

"But I couldn't stop, lest I be next. I scrambled over his limp form, moving as fast as my wounds would allow. I was bleeding profusely, leaving a trail a child could follow, my leg stiffening until it was all but useless. My vision was beginning to grey as I found my way out of the compound, and by the time I finally made it back to the ship we'd arrived on, I barely had the presence of mind left to get her into orbit before setting the autopilot. Finally, I was able to apply enough medi-gel to stop the bleeding, and then I passed out in the pilot's chair."

* * *

Kasumi let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Wow," she said softly. "Hell of a mission."

Thane nodded gravely. "Indeed. Though the Illusive Man was far less concerned about Kay's apparent death than I'd feared, it continued to haunt me for many years afterward." He looked down at his hands, folded tightly on the table. "I never worked a job with a partner again. I told myself it was because I'd grown beyond my childish need for validation. But the truth was far simpler: I shied from such assignments out of shame. And perhaps fear."

His choice of words not lost on her, Kasumi cocked her head to one side. "His _apparent_ death?" she asked. "You mean Kay survived?"

"He did." Thane's words were clipped, his voice tightly controlled. "And he blamed me for leaving him behind. And years later…" His eyes grew wide and unfocused as memory once again took over. _"The batarian shudders in my grasp. His head and shoulders dangling over the precipice. What I have done to him and his men should make me sick, but I must know. I_ must _know who killed her, and there is so little time left. He cannot escape. He must not!_ 'Who was he?!' _I snarl, my patience, my discipline long gone. I regret only that Drack must witness… this._

" _He hesitates still, so as I've done to his associates already, I reach for his face, intending to pluck out his eyes. Immediately, he breaks._ 'Stiv Kay!' _he howls, and the name tears through my furious haze like a bullet through flesh. 'His name's Stiv Kay!'"_

"Oh, God," Kasumi breathed as Thane collected himself. "He's the one who…"

"Yes." The word settled like a stone between them, heavy in the silence that followed.

Finally, Thane cleared his throat. "My apologies. I'm afraid I have wandered considerably off the topic of your visit."

"No, that's okay." Kasumi waved off his concern. "I asked. And…" She hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Well, it feels like you needed to get that off your chest."

"Perhaps." Thane stood and began to pace restlessly back and forth. "It has been many years since I've had any real friends. When I arrived here, all that changed. First Amar—ah, Commander Shepard. Then you, and Garrus, and others on this crew. I have come to count myself… blessed."

"But?"

Thane stopped his pacing, staring out the window that looked out onto the drive core. "But there are many evil things I have done… for which I feel I have yet to atone." He turned to face her, something uncertain roiling in his eyes and knotting his brow. "This mission was to accomplish that for me. One grand gesture of good to balance the scales of my conscience. But now that the moment is upon us, I fear—"

He was interrupted by Joker's voice on the shipwide intercom. _"All right everybody, this is it. We'll hit the Omega-4 relay in two hours."_


	12. Epilogue: Eternal Things

"I think what you need is a distraction," Kasumi said with a wink. "Maybe you should go see what Shep is up to."

Thane looked away, his frills flushing darker red. "I… I'm certain Commander Shepard has more important things to do."

"Than you? I doubt it." She snickered at her own joke—and at the look on his face that confirmed he was familiar with that idiom, too. But she sobered quickly. "Seriously, though, I mean it. Look, what were you reading before I dropped in?"

Her apparent non sequitur seemed to catch him off guard, and he blinked in surprise before glancing down at the datapad that still lay, nearly forgotten, on the table. "Why do you ask?"

"Humor me."

"Very well." Thane sat back down across from her. "I have been reading _The Divine Comedy,_ by Dante Alighieri. On _your_ recommendation, I might add."

Kasumi nodded. "And how far have you gotten?"

"Not very, I'm afraid," said Thane. "Perhaps halfway through _Inferno._ Though I had hoped to finish it before…"

"I'll save you some time." Kasumi picked up the datapad and tossed it aside, and Thane cocked his eyebrow ridge at her as it clattered to the floor. She leaned across the table. "Do you know what gets Dante through his journey?" she asked. "What keeps him going through the depths of Hell itself?"

Thane folded his hands under his chin. "Tell me."

"It's faith," she said firmly. "Oh, not necessarily in any particular God, though he talks about that a lot. And not in Virgil, either. It's Beatrice, ultimately. He has faith in _her_."

Thane nodded slowly. "I see," he replied. "And you believe that Shepard is to me what Beatrice was to Dante."

"Isn't she?"

Thane let out a long breath. "Perhaps." He was silent for a long, thoughtful moment, then asked, "But what about you, Kasumi? What is it you have faith in, that will carry you through this Hell we are about to harrow?"

"For me, I think it's not so much faith, as hope," she replied. "Hope that, if worse comes to worst and I die on this mission… that I'll get to be with Keiji again. That even if civilization collapses, we'll have each other, finally." She stood and hooked her thumb toward the door. "Come on. I'm going back to my room to lose myself in some more old memories. Time for you to go make some new ones."

* * *

 As he waited for the elevator, Thane tucked his hands behind his back and bowed his head, dizzy with anxiety and an exhaustion not of body but of soul. He felt at once jittery and utterly drained, as though he could either run until his lungs burst or collapse where he stood. His chest ached, in a way that had nothing to do with his illness and everything to do with the unfamiliar, conflicting emotions that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

His own voice echoed in his mind: _now that the moment is upon us, I fear—_

He had intended there to have been more to that sentence. Joker's announcement had cut him off before he could finish. But if he were truly honest with himself… there didn't need to be any more to that sentence.

_Now that the moment is upon us—upon me—I fear. I_ fear.

Thane rocked back on his heels as the revelation struck. He had spent the last ten years coming to terms with his impending death, and had long prided himself on having overcome the fear of it and accepting his fate. But now… he deliberately considered the possibility that this day might truly be his last, and… yes, there it was. Long denied, longer unnamed: that sick chill, that tremble of the hands, that hammering of the heart. He was… afraid… to die.

The shame of it nearly caused him to flee back to his quarters. He needn't burden his _siha_ with this weakness, especially now. No, he would spend his remaining time in solitary meditation, gathering what scraps of courage he could muster for the battle to come. He must not fail her. He _would not_ fail her. He turned—

—and his imagination conjured Dante's dark forest around him, thick, tangled foliage pressing in on all sides, the "straightforward path" irrevocably lost. Before him, the prideful lion, the snarling leopard, and the ravenous wolf. Alien and menacing, they seemed to sneer at his cowardice.

The elevator doors slid open. Thane fairly fled inside.

Alone, truly alone now, away from the possibility of prying eyes, he allowed himself a moment. He slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands, shudders wracking his body as he attempted to calm himself with deep, steady breaths. _Save me, precious Arashu._

But when he tried to picture the face of the Goddess, all he could see was Amaryllis Shepard. His angel, his _siha—_ his Beatrice. If anyone could give him the courage to face what lay ahead, if anyone could see him through to the other side, it was her. He had faith in her.

And perhaps, when it was over, they would together rebehold the stars.


End file.
